Soot scooted though the halls hurrying back to her studio. Desperately trying to get her outfit back in order. Her face was flush, hair unkept, dress askew, even one of her boots was partially undone, laces dragging along the ground. Getting thrown around by a sorcerer isn't the best for keeping your clothes together After-all, this little distraction had costed the painter half a working day, and she still had a piece to finish... As well as a waiting servant girl who really should to be let down to stretch her legs.

It wasn't exactly her 'proper' work attire but luckily it seemed the halls were quiet. If she could get back without too many interruptions the day might not be a total loss.

Until she ran into the Sultan's attendant. Who was... standing in front of the Vizier's office, enraptured, holding a dagger. Soot stared, for too long, in the way that an artist does. Before realizing she was staring at a girl, with a knife, incredibly absorbed in said knife.

Deciding this was most certainty not her problem: Soot turned on her heels and tried to march off, her face a stoic 'now is not the time to ask questions', before stopping on her bootlace and tumbling down to the ground.